To Watch a Future Unfurl
by Countess of Cobert
Summary: Pre-Series. My take on how Robert and Cora met and became engaged.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Firstly, credit where it's due, the title of this story obviously came from part of Violet's quote at Mary's wedding, so naturally belongs to Julian Fellowes. I have a sequel to this story in the works which bares the other half of this conversation (Martha's reply) as its title. Obviously none of the characters are mine.

I am fully aware that many people have ideas, and/or have written stories for the beginning of Robert and Cora's relationship and I will take no offence if you prefer other people's, or your own versions, this is just what I think happened.

I hope you enjoy the story and please review, it means a lot.

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><p>"She's American." Robert spits the words at his father, unable to comprehend the facts being laid out for him. Marry an American, his father must surely be joking.<p>

"We are nearing the end of the season Robert and you have yet to decide on any of the other heiresses I've named for you. Look, Miss Levinson is standing over there, twisting her champagne glass around." Robert turns in the direction of his father's gaze.

"The blonde?"

"No, the brunette, pale skin-" But Robert doesn't hear. His eyes are fixed on her. She is by far the most beautiful woman he's ever clapped eyes on. Her dark hair contrasts so perfectly with her porcelain white skin. Her lips are full and pink as if waiting for a man to claim them. Her eyes suddenly meet his and he turns away, the fluttering sensation in his chest dispersing with the absence of her in his vision. Robert turns his attention back to his father. "Her name is Miss Cora Levinson, very American I dare say . But most importantly she's rich, rich enough to save us from disgrace." Robert only nods, he doesn't like to tell his father that no way is a plain, dull man like him going to be able to lure the exotic and absolutely stunning Miss Levinson into matrimony. Instead, he picks up a glass of champagne and heads in her direction. Only for her to start walking towards the balcony, he follows.

"Miss Levinson, isn't it?"

"Yes, Mr-"

"Crawley, Robert Crawley. Viscount Downton actually."

"Well, a Viscount. Being such an important member of society I'm surprised you are so forward as to seek conversation with a woman whom you have not been introduced to."

"Well, you see-" How on earth does his father think he can put up with this woman? As much as she is very witty, and excessively pretty, he's not sure he could stand this on a daily basis. He moves to turn away but she reaches out her hand and speaks.

"Forgive me, I didn't mean to be rude, where might your residence be?"

"Downton Abbey in Yorkshire." She stares blankly back at him and Robert has to focus to be able to tear his gaze from hers. "I'm sorry, I expect I've confused you. Your British geography is probably as good as my American geography. Yorkshire is in-"

"The North east, yes, I know." Robert stares at her dumbfounded. An intellectual American, since when did that happen? "It was Downton Abbey, it rings a bell, perhaps my mother mentioned it." This Robert thinks is familiar territory, he could talk about Downton all day long if he had to, even with an American.

"Well, it is a rather big and beautiful house, even if I do say so myself." She says nothing which unnerves Robert. He's never been much good at charming women and he knows that it's in these awkward pauses that he's supposed to say something charming, something that will make Miss Levinson blush. But no such comment comes to mind, all the things he is thinking of are not suitable for a first meeting. It doesn't help that he's becoming increasingly hot under the collar and that unfamiliar fluttering in his chest has returned. "My father said that you...never mind."

"Does your father have financial difficulties?" Bluntness, It has become clear is an American trait and discussing money openly, oh yes, definitely American. "Only because what I think your father was saying is that I have a rather large dowry, big enough to save your _big and beautiful_ Downton Abbey." Robert gulps, if any other woman had spoken to him in such a way he would have excused himself. But something about Miss Cora Levinson keeps him fixed to the spot. Her accent maybe, or her beauty, or dare he think it, her American traits? He realises a little too late that he's leaned unintentionally closer to her, his eyes fixed on a plant the other side of her shoulder, in the overly manicured gardens behind him. Overly manicured, Robert sighs, that's what all women usually are, overly instructed by their mothers on what to say and what not to say. Miss Levinson he thinks sparks his interest, not only because she's pretty, stunning actually, but because she's not manicured, she's not been clipped of her personality by interfering parents, she's been allowed to be the woman she actually is.

"No, it was your enchanting eyes, set in a most stunning face that my father and I talked of."

"What colour are my eyes?" She turns so her back is to him and he just stares at it. Women aren't meant to ask questions like that, they are supposed to except the flattering comment with a blush. 'What colour are my eyes?' The most simple question, particularly whan they have been talking for so long. But Robert can't answer, he doesn't know, are they blue, green, brown? She's tricked him, was one step ahead of him, refusing to fall for his flattering comments. She's a woman with her own views, her own rules, as he had already discovered, he should have known the conventional wouldn't please her. She wasn't going to fall for a man that just flatters her. He thinks perhaps he might have a chance with her, he hates all the flattering that men bestow on ladies, only to take them to bed and move onto the next. He equally hates women that use the oldest trick is in the book to attract a man. He is far more interested in the likes of Miss Levinson, women with their own views and who are not scared of what other people think. A woman who is only going to secure a man by being herself. But, he can't remember the colour of her eyes, a simple question to check he wasn't just flattering her with the first comment that came to mind, it was a comment to check he'd been paying attention, and he couldn't answer it. She pivots around to face him and he sighs, blue, her eye are blue.

"The most enchanting blue."

"A word of advice Mr Crawley. Honesty is the best way to secure a woman, particularly a rich American one. They, or at least I, want honesty in marriage." He chokes on his drink and feels the cold, and now wet, fabric of his shirt sticking to his chest. Her bluntness had shocked him once again. Marriage, such a basic topic of conversation yet one that was unheard of in England. You never discussed marriage until you asked for a woman's hand. Yet here they were hunting for husband's and wife's! He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket only to find he can't daub the shirt while holding his glass. Suddenly a small, white hand takes the handkerchief and begins daubing his shirt, her glass abandoned on the floor. What a relief he thinks that they're outside, away from prying eyes, to be seen with a women daubing his chest would be one massive scandal that would result in very few women wishing to be persued by him. She talks as she works, but Robert struggles to listen as he's mesmerised by her hands. He should stop her he knows that, but somehow he can't bring himself to do it. When he catches what's she saying again, he realises she is obviously uncomfortable. "I'm so sorry, this was my fault, I momentarily forgot I was in England, and actually mentioning marriage is not allowed." Robert laughs, and then stops. There's no point in laughing. No woman would ever want to marry a man who spills drink down his shirt.

"And I should have been honest. But, it's too late now, you've already decided not to add me to your list of potential husbands." Robert looks down, embarrassed and upset. He really did like Miss Levinson's company. But just as he looks down the most thrilling sound reaches his ears. A sound sweeter and more musical than bells, her laugh.

"Who says woman keep lists of men they like?"

"Well, you know-"

"And who says you're not going to be put on my list?" Robert feels his cheeks go warm as her intoxicating gaze never leaves his own. He pauses unable to tear his eyes from hers to think of a sensible response. Eventually words stumble from his mouth.

"Well, even if I was going to be put on it, I'm sure it's full of far better men who actually like you and _not_ your money, which means I have _no_ chance." Honesty, that's what she wanted and now she's got it. She knows it's her money he wants, isn't it? But he falters, she is so very beautiful.

"Seeing as it's my list and I know who's on it. I think you're in with a better chance then you think."

"What!? How!? I insulted your intelligence, spilt drink all down my front and -"

"You're honest, funny, handsome and can't flirt to save your life and I like you. A lot." She walks away before Robert can utter a word. He watches her walk back into the room, leaving him alone on the balcony, the night he realises is much colder than it was before, did Miss Levinson somehow make him feel warmer. And as for handsome, he must have heard her wrong, no woman had ever thought, let alone _called_ him handsome.


	2. Chapter 2

Cora's mind swims with images of Viscount Downton as she steps into the ballroom at Lady Margaret's house. He'd been so charming three days earlier at Lady Amelia's ball, despite his original lack of honesty over his family's financial situation. All other men that had lied to her had immediately been tossed into the reject pile, she didn't want a lying husband, but not Mr Crawley. Was it his smouldering blue eyes? His obvious nervousness about flirting with her? She doesn't know. What she does know, as she is swung from one side to the other, in the arms of the rather old Mr Bowley, whom her mother had taken the pain to remind her was the future Duke of Devonshire, is that he's not here. She thought he would most definitely be here as a supposed friend of Lady Margaret's.

She thanks Mr Bowley graciously for the dance, but as his blue eyes meet hers her heart doesn't race as it did with Mr Crawley, she doesn't feel self-conscious, nor when he's left her does she worry about what he think of her. She glances towards the door again, as has been her habit for the past hour or so, surely he's coming? She feels a tug at her arm at the same moment his intoxicating blue eyes meet hers, he's come, at last. Another sharp tug causes her to drag her eyes away in favour of Lady Margaret's watery blue ones.

"Aren't my parents so wonderful to organise a ball for me. And look who's just arrived. _Mr Robert Crawley_. Oh, isn't he handsome? And his house! I'd be Margaret, Countess of Grantham." Cora inwardly rolls her eyes, all Margaret ever talks about is being the Countess of Grantham and how wonderful Downton Abbey is, anyone would think Mr Crawley had proposed to her! The sensation of being watched washes over Cora and she turns to see Mr Crawley approaching.

"Lady Margaret." Cora almost laughs as Margaret jumps at the sound of Mr Crawley's voice and a blush brightens her cheeks, she's so obvious.

"Lord Downton."

"I only came over to say-"

"Yes, of course I'll dance with you." Cora watches as Mr Crawley's eyebrows knit together, and a frown, mixed with a very endearing blush covers his features. His eyes suddenly appear so much brighter in contrast to his pinker face.

"You're quite mistaken, I was only going to say that it's a wonderful ball and I am very honoured to have been invited." Margaret's face falls and Cora looks away. Why has a feeling of total relieve just washed over her?

"Let me present my friend, Miss Cora Levinson."

"Miss Levinson and I met earlier this week." An awkward silence remains and Cora looks at her shoes. The silence ends with Margaret's accepting the offer of a dance from a dashing young Mr Northam, the future Duke of Gloucester. Cora gazes after the dancing couple for a few minutes, unsure how to begin a conversation with a man she can't get out of her head. With any other man she would talk about the weather of the ballroom, but she wants to know more about Mr Crawley, who is he really? What does he enjoy? But these are questions that her heart and society forbid her from asking. Deep down, she also knows that whatever the answers are, the fluttering in her heart won't ever seize. Why it's there though, she's not sure. "So you've found a friend in Lady Margaret?" His voice breaks her from he reverie.

"Not really, she found me soon after I left you at Lady Amelia's ball the other evening. She started pushing me at her brother but I don't think he likes me much and I've heard the family has plenty of money so it can't be my dowry they want."

"Maybe the gentleman likes you."

"I don't think so. I think Lady Margaret befriended me more because she saw me with you than because she thought her brother might be interested. "

"Why would she do that?" She smiles at his sarcasm but manages with difficulty not to laugh.

"You know full well why she'd do that. And she thinks she has a chance; she has a large dowry after all."

"Not large enough I'm afraid. I need to marry an heiress."

"You don't _need_ to, you've been told to."

"No, I _need_ to."

"Why, to save your home? I thought all you Brits cared about was titles and you'd still have that." Cora scolds herself, money and now insulting him, really Cora get a grip.

"We are a vain lot." She looks up at him, eyes wide, did he just call Brits vain? Is that a laughing smile spreading over his face, did he actually agree with what she was saying, her insult? "We really are. It must all looks so ridiculous to an outsider."

"Some of the things that go on in America are ridiculous, and not even to an outsider." He laughs and the sound makes her smile, it makes her feel happier than she has the whole time she's been in England. She throws dignity and reputation to the wind and laughs with him. She pretends not to notice Margaret looking daggers from the arms of Mr Northam, or the anger plastered on The Countess of Grantham's face. When they've contained themselves, he speaks again.

"When is your coming out ball?"

"Are you asking for an invitation Mr Crawley?"

"Well I-" she smiles at his flustered expression. For a man who has half the ton in love with him he's not used to flirting, or women flirting with him, how strange. But then he does strike Cora as the kind of man who wants a proper marriage, not one based on false reasoning. She thinks perhaps he would rather marry to be happy than to save his estate, even if he doesn't realise it because his father had bullied him into accepting his fate without fuss.

"I was joking Mr Crawley, you must know I enjoy teasing people. As to my coming out ball, you would most definitely be invited if I was having one. The house we are living in is a little too small and my mother's unsure about how to host an English ball so she is attending as many as possible before she definitely says yes to me having one. If I'm honest though, I don't like all these balls, I'd rather not have one. All I think about when I'm dancing is 'one, two, three, watch you feet Cora, don't step on his.'" She hears the sound of his laugh again, but it abruptly stops.

"But every debutante should have her own ball, particularly one as elegant as you." Cora looks down as the warmest blush she's ever felt spreads over her cheeks. Men have complimented her before and she blushed but never has it felt so perfect, so warm. She lifts her eyes to his and smiles, a true genuine smile. He reaches out his hand to her and when she places hers in his the funniest sensation shimmers over her skin. Like electricity it moves from that spot, flowing from him to her, and then travels right through her body. She manages to contain her gasp and he moves her hand to sit it in the crook of his arm. They start walking towards his parents. "You are going to have a coming out ball, at my family's London residence next week, my mother will organise it, which will save your mother lots of time and effort."

"I'm not sure how proper it is for you to host a ball for a debutante you barely know."

"I thought Americans weren't ones for getting hung up on the rules."

"We aren't, but I thought you Brits were, particularly ones who are heirs to Earldoms." He laughs again and Cora decides that's a sound she could get used to hearing, a sound she could learn to love. Love, did she just think love?

"Perhaps I'm not one for following the rules." She looks up at him, the strangest lightness consuming her, her heart hammers again with hope. Hope for a future. A future with a friend. Suddenly her pleasant thoughts are dashed as she looks up into the stony fade of Mr Crawley's mother. "Mama, Papa, I'd like you to meet Miss Cora Levinson."

"Pleased to meet you Miss Levinson. I'm Patrick, the sixth Earl of Grantham and this is my wife Violet."

"Very pleased to meet you, Lord and Lady Grantham." It amazes Cora that she manages to utter anything sensible when she's so nervous. Never has she wanted to make a good impression as much as she does now, why she doesn't know.

"Well, she has some manners, that's a start." Lady Grantham's harsh statement makes Cora look with more purpose at the older woman. She's never been intimated by English aristocrats disdain for Americans, why change that now? She feels Mr Crawley's gaze on her, trying to ascertain her reaction.

"I'm so sorry Miss Levinson, Lady Grantham didn't mean-"

"It's quite alright Lord Grantham, being an American in England I'm quite used to it." She directs her words at the formidable woman in front of her who only stares back. MR Crawley gently squeezes her hand before he speaks.

"Mama, Papa. I actually came over to ask a favour. Miss Levinson's mother is struggling to organise a ball for her and -"

"Well, I dare say the house _Miss Levinson_ is staying in is not as suitable for balls as the grand houses of aristocratic _English_ families." Cora doesn miss how Lady Grantham sneers over her name, nor does she miss Mr Crawley looking daggers at her before turning to his father, totally ignoring his mother's presence.

"And I was wondering if you'd host a ball for her, at our house."

"Yes, of course. We would be delighted." Lord Grantham bestows his warmest smile on the Cora and she weakly smiles back. So self-absorbed she decides, does he think I'm stupid and naive enough to not to realise that he's only agreed to host my ball in an attempt to get me to marry Mr Crawley, so he can have my money. At least she thinks Lord Grantham is nicer than his wife. Marry Mr Crawley though, would that really be so bad? Her heart beats so fast she barely registers Lady Grantham's horror struck face at the thought of hosting a ball for an American, nor does she realise Mr Crawley is gently walking her towards the refreshments. She gulps down the champagne he hands her which thankfully forces her heart to slow and her lightheadedness to disappear. She looks up into Mr Crawley's smouldering eyes.

"Your mother didn't seem best pleased with the idea."

"I would lie to you, but I know you like honesty. My mother hates the thought of having an American in the house. She finds it hard to grasp that very few, if any, English girls are heiresses and thus my wife-"

"Will be American. Although after her reaction I doubt you'll choose me to be your American wife. It's always best to please one's mother."

"Well, if pleasing one's mother is what you believe in. I believe a Duchess' coronet may end up being yours."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because your mother wants you to enter society as high up the ladder as you can." Cora panics, how on earth did he know that? Surely Mama has not spoken to him, that would be a disaster, she's been so inhospitable to anyone that's not a future Duke or that Prince Christian, grandson of Her Majesty the Queen that keeps appearing at Cora's side.

"Your mother spoke to me the other day."

"Well, in that case I'm rather flattered you're still talking to me. I usually try and avoid introducing people to my mother. You must really like me, or really want my money." Cora doesn't have a chance to apologize for her insinuated rudeness, it seems Mr Crawley is coming around to her frankness.

"You know one of those to be true, as for the other, I like you but I'm not sure...never mind"

"Honesty, remember?"

"I'm not sure I could ruin your life by making you marry me." Cora's heart soars, why she doesn't know, but he's so kind and he seems to be thinking about marriage and what her feelings about such a union between them might be. Marry Mr Crawley? Marry him? Could she marry him? Would she be happy? Maybe, just maybe there's a chance she might be.

"Who says you'd have to make me? I might want to come all on my own." Let's hope nobody heard me being so forward she thinks to herself, if it gets back to her mother that she's been pursuing a meer Earl's son when there are Dukes and a Prince on offer Cora knows she'd be dead meat.

"No one pretty or intelligent would want to live with me, I'm awfully dull."

"Dull would not be the word I'd use."

"No, you'd probably say dull _and_ boring."

"Or how about, awfully fun?" He laughs, it seems just as she is not going to fall for a man that flatters her, he is not going to fall for a woman that does the same to him. He's only going to propose if he thinks she's ready to accept him. "You make me laugh, and I enjoy teasing you. But joking aside, you're friendly, easy to talk to and excessively kind. You're hosting a ball for me, and for that if nothing else I'll be in debt to you forever." She stops suddenly aware that his gaze has drifted from her to the beautiful red head across the ballroom. The girl mouths something and Mr Crawley's face lights up. Cora feels tears prick in her eyes and a nauseous tingle in her stomach. She walks away.

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><p>AN: Thank you for all your lovely reviews.<p>

On another note, Prince Christain Victor who is mentioned in this chapter, and who will make some further mentions, was a real grandson of Queen Victoria. I took a long time trying to find a young grandson who would have been about the right age in 1888 and he was. He was Princess Helena's eldest son and I wished to bring him to life in this story as he sadly died in South Africa during the Boer War in 1900. Which I thought was rather fitting for two reasons, firstly Robert obviously fights there. Secondly, in the year 2014 and more importantly the month of November, we remember those who lost their life's in war, and although we are noticeablely focused on WW1 this year, all men and women deserve to be remembered. As does Prince Christian Victor.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Thanks so much for your lovely reviews! I'm sorry I have not PMed you all with a thank you, but it's been a very busy week and I lacked the time, but i am thanking you all now. As to everyone's excitement over the identity of the red head, you'll have to wait and see!

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><p>As Robert walks to Miss Levinson's residence he thinks of their last encounter. It had all been going so wonderfully, and unless he was very much mistaken she had appeared to be interested in him. Robert hadn't been totally oblivious to the unfamiliar sensation that had flooded over him when he'd taken her hand and he wondered if she'd felt that too, he thought she had, but then at he end of their conversation she'd suddenly walked off as if he'd offended her in some way.<p>

He'd wanted to get out of the house this morning. His parents had been at each other's throats ever since his father had agreed to host Miss Levinson's ball. Robert still isn't sure what possessed him to want to host a ball for her, it wasn't as though he thought doing something generous would increase the chance of her agreeing to marry him, after all there was no way a beautiful, intelligent woman like Miss Levinson would choose to marry him. As soon as she'd left him at Lady Margaret's ball she'd spent the rest of the evening on the dance floor with various Dukes and then Prince Christian danced his first dance of the evening with her, she had looked very content in his arms and it was no surprise, any woman would be content in the arms of Prince, she'd laughed and smiled. The gossips had been going before the end of the night and Robert had opened the paper that morning to the gossip columns filled with "Young American beauty to be the next Princess." Never had a Robert been so angry about something he'd read in the papers, how dare they write about a woman how they were writing about Miss Levinson, slandering her name and making her out to be some fortune hunter, set to ruin the country. What confused him was why he cared, what did it matter to him if she married the Prince? It wasn't particularly any loss to him, there were a couple of other heiresses of the season, including Lady Margaret, whom his mother would say was a far better match as the daughter of an Earl. But of all the heiresses it was Miss Levinson's face that clouded his mind, refusing to budge. A problem he decided that he needed to conquer seeing as there was no way she was ever going to accept him.

Robert had never thought much about marriage until his father had told him that by the end of this season he had to be married, married to an heiress. He'd never thought about what he wanted in a wife apart from maybe a little beauty. But since meeting Miss Levinson a week ago he'd started comparing other women he met to her as though she was the perfect fit. But how could she be? She was American. She wasn't particularly well born. Her money was new. She was pretty, very pretty and very intelligent, but when did she become what he imagined his future wife to be like?

He walks up the steps to Miss Levinson's house and knocks, a Butler opens the door and he gets shown into the drawing room. Miss Levinson sits by the window, embroidery abandoned in her lap, her head propped on a cushion, fast asleep. He smiles and sits across from her, watching the slow and steady rise and fall of her chest and her lips open and closing very slightly. He sits and watches her for what could be minutes, it could be hours, he doesn't know. He turns to look out the window only to hear a soft murmur of "Robert" escape from her slightly parted lips, thinking she's awoken he turns to her, only to find her still fast asleep, surely she can't be dreaming of him? Maybe there was a Robert she'd fallen for in America, yes, that must be it. Then her embroidery falls to the floor as she moves in her sleep and her eyes fly open. Robert sees her start and blush as she acknowledges his presence. She subconsciously raises her hand to her hair, checking it's all still in place.

"You look fine, and you're beautiful when you sleep." Robert scolds himself when she looks at the ground. Stupid man, commenting about how she looks when she sleeps, all the connotations! "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that, please forgive me Miss Levinson."

"It's alright. I know you meant no harm. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

"I'm pleased you find my visit a pleasure. I came for no particular reason, I just wanted to bring you up to date with the arrangements for your ball."

"And to escape your mother?" He smiles and it pleases him when she smiles tentatively back at him.

"There have been quite a few favourable replies to the invitations. It seems you've made an impression in everyone's minds."

"Or, they just wanted to see the grand interior of the Grantham's London house." He relaxes, he didn't even realise he'd been tensed, but he'd been waiting for her to tease him, it was a part of who she was and it would have been obvious he'd done something seriously wrong the other night if she didn't tease him now. "I'm sorry for all the havoc I've bought down on your heads. Apologise to your sister for me."

"She doesn't mind, she loves listening to my mother and I argue. I'm sorry you haven't been able to meet her yet."

"I saw you danced with Lady Margaret eventually, the other night." He stiffens, so she had noticed, he'd rather hoped she hadn't.

"Yes."

"Has your opinion of her changed? It appeared as though you'd rather avoid her earlier in the evening."

"My opinion of her hasn't changed, but as a family friend I felt I owed her a dance. Even if I do find her the most irritating girl alive."

"I've since learned she had a rather large dowry, and I already knew she was very well-born. Isn't that what you men want in a wife, money and good breeding?" Stereotypes, he sighs, why on earth do they exist? For him they have been nothing but a hindrance. All his life he'd thought he'd marry for love, just as his father did but that had set itself against him. Marriage he now realised was a lottery, or a game of cards, totally down to chance. He'd never understood the concept until now. But now he knew, you only have the choice of the cards in your hand, in other words the women which have the attributes you need, in his case money. After that the fates decide. It angers him that Miss Levinson, a woman of sense and intelligence whom he believed disagreed with stereotypes could believe him to be so narrow-minded. Without thinking he snaps at her.

"I noticed you were in the arms of various men throughout the evening yourself. I thought you weren't fond of dancing?" He watches as embarrassment and hurt pass over her still slightly sleepy features.

"Well, you know, when-"

"The handsome gentleman is the future Duke of Devonshire, Gloucester or the Duke of Bertram himself, perhaps even Prince Christian Victor, the Duchess' coronet of Princess' tiara are just too good to let lie. I understand." He stops, out of breath, where did all that come from, was he really being possessive over who Miss Levinson danced with?

"Mr Crawley, if you wish to dance with me-"

"No, I mean yes, I would like to dance with you. I just wanted to know why you hadn't danced with me. Or am I just not high enough up your list of eligible men for dancing?"

"Mr Crawley, you've never asked me to dance. And as for my list, you forget of all the men you're the one hosting my ball. The man whose debt I might be in forever, unless of course I find a way to _repay_ you." He doesn't miss how she drags the word 'repay' out, or the meaningful look that accompanies the phrase. He equally loves how she has taken to calling him 'Mr Crawley' as she had asked him, rather than the 'Lord Downton' that society persists on. He doesn't however notice the smile fade as her thoughts return to the red haired beauty Robert had danced with twice. "Mr Crawley, at the risk of being impertinent, who was the red head you danced with at Lady Margaret's ball?" Robert smiles to himself, unaware that this very facial expression is being scrutinised by the woman sat before him, as he remembers his playful conversation with the red head in question and laughs.

"Oh, she's my-" but at that moment the door opens and a gentleman Robert assumes is Miss Levinson's brother enters the room and blushes.

"I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"Harold, this is Mr Crawley. Mr Crawley this is my brother Harold." at the sound of Miss Levinson's authoritative voice her brother becomes braver and even smiles.

"Very pleased to meet you. Cora's mentioned you rather a lot." Robert doesn't miss the wink Mr Levinson bestows on his sister, or the glare he receives in return. It's a wonder he does notice these things though, as his mind is miles away, thinking over the words of Mr Levinson. Does she really talk about me all the time? Mr Levinson exits and suddenly Robert is sat beside Miss Levinson, her hands in his.

"Without wishing to embarrass you. I just wanted to ask you, for future reference, if-if you wanted to take a turn around Kensington gardens tomorrow." Damn you, Robert, why do you always chicken out at the last moment? He reprimands himself, all he wanted to know was whether she'd be interested in a life with him or not.

"Yes, yes that would be lovely. How about eleven o'clock?"

"That sounds wonderful. I'll see you there." He gets up abruptly, not wishing to stay any longer at the risk of embarrassing both of them.

That evening when he sits around the table with his parents, the topic of Miss Levinson, one he'd been hoping to avoid discussing with his parents due to his confused thoughts on her, comes up.

"How was Miss Levinson today?" Such an innocent question, posed by his father but it's a question he doesn't know how to answer. She was fine, he thinks, but she'd acted so strangely the other night, what did it all mean?

"She was-"

"Oh, please, Miss Levinson this, Miss Levinson that. Everyone is talking about Miss Levinson; how she's so amazing and has captured the Prince's heart, but really she's just rich, and a ghastly American." Roberts anger spikes at his mothers speech, how dare she talk about Miss Levinson like that?

"Well, I like her, she's funny, pretty and we get along very well."

"And you get along very well with Lady Margaret and-"

"I hate the very sight of Lady Margaret. She's snobby, and all she cares about is being Countess of Grantham."

"But isn't that want Miss Levinson wants? The house and the title?"

"Perhaps, but I want a happy marriage with a woman who makes me laugh and with whom I can have an actual conversation, I don't want a woman that flops all over me, pampering and giggling."

"Robert, you need a happy marriage with a woman who knows how to run a house like Downton. _Not_ an American. And why we have to host a ball for her I don't-"

"Happy marriage or not, the point is Robert needs to marry money. Miss Levinson has that money." Robert is thankful for his fathers interruption, it gives him a chance to breathe.

"Yes, yes, but a well-born english girl with a smaller dowry who knows how to run a-"

"Oh Mama, really, if that's all your worried about, perhaps you'd be obliged to teach Miss Levinson how to run a house like Downton. A little kindness wouldn't go amiss after all."

"Kindness, Don't talk to me about kindness you ungrateful boy, I'm hosting a ball for the ghastly-"

"That's quite enough!" He's never yelled at his mother before, never. But this time he snaps. It's his life. His marriage. Why on earth should he be told whom to marry? It was bad enough he only had the choice of heiresses. "She doesn't deserve such treatment from you after being nothing but kind. And as for you Papa, shut up about money and heiresses. It's alright for you to exclaim 'happy marriage or not' but you're not the one that's going to be stuck with a woman you hate for the rest of your life. That will be me. You married for love, remember, you have no idea what unhappily married means. I don't want to be a man who has a mistress because they dislike their wife so much. I want to be a good husband. I will choose my own wife without anybody's interference. And you don't need to fret, I will be a dutiful son and choose her from the list of heiresses for the season that you were kind enough to write out for me." He storms from the room, tears already sliding down his face.


	4. Chapter 4

Cora almost trips down the stairs as she runs downs to breakfast the next morning, dressed in her favourite royal blue gown, the only thing dampening her spirits is the ghastly hat perched on her head, goodness how she hates hats, she'd much rather feel the wind in her hair and the sun on her cheeks. Her joyful mood soon evaporates as she opens a note the footman presents to her, it simply reads: 'Miss Levinson, I very much regret that I will be unable to meet you today in Kensington Park as planned. I will however be able to fulfil the arrangement tomorrow at the same time, unless you are otherwise engaged. My apologies and best wishes for a pleasant day, Mr Crawley.'

She slumps into her chair and rips he hat from her head. She was bargaining on walking with Mr Crawley, if only to avoid tedious morning visits with various future Dukes who simpler and smile all around her in a vain attempt to make a blush rise to her cheeks. Only three gentleman had managed that so far, Mr Crawley, Prince Christian Victor and the Duke of Bertram. The latter confused Cora, she had no idea what the man wanted from her, as it was not her money. The Prince was easier to understand, he desperately wanted to rebel against his family.

The other reason for her distress at Mr Crawley postponing their outing was what he was doing instead. The beautiful red-head he'd danced with still remained an unknown to Cora. Mr Crawley had been on the verge of telling her the identity of the stunning woman 'She's my,' when her brother had interrupted. And then there's the question of what he'd really wanted to ask her when he'd instead asked her to join him in Kensington gardens. Her mother sashays into the breakfast room.

"Cora, come on, morning calls will start any minute and the Duke of Bertram is sure to call."

"Yes Mama."

"And, run and change into your orange blouse and navy skirt it sets off your complexion better. Also, your maid could tighten your corset."

"Yes Mama."

When she enters the Drawing room a short time later, her corset no tighter than it was before, two expectant male faces and her mother's turn sharply in her direction. The two future Dukes spend the next hour flattering her in every way they know how, but in truth they only succeed in flattering her mother and increasing Cora's vexation.

Mr Bowley, the future Duke of Devonshire, who is in fact twice Cora's age and keeps reminding her that his father is currently in a state of very ill-health and that he is likely to succeed to the title any day. Cora replies pleasantly, not daring to explain to the smirking idiot that she couldn't careless about being a Duchess. She doesn't dare tell him that's only what her mother wants for her.

She drifts off into her own thoughts of Mr Crawley and that gorgeous red-head friend of his that she's yet to know the name of. Is that who he's with now, she wonders, is that the woman he compares all others too? If only her annoying brother hadn't interrupted. 'She's my,' were two words that Cora never thought would haunt her so. She only wished to know how the sentence ended. In her dreams he'd say 'sister' or 'friend' but in her nightmares he said 'fiancée.' It was naturally the latter she believed to be true, the woman was stunning after all. But what confused her was why this made her insides feel hollow and tears prick in her eyes, what did it matter if he was engaged to another woman?

"Cora dear, did you hear what Mr Northam said?" Her mother's sharp tongue brings her back to the two gentleman with their shark like eyes fixed on their prize.

"No, I'm sorry sir, what was it you were saying?"

"Only that you look very splendid this morning and I wondered if you'd take a turn outside with me."

"I'd rather not if you don't mind. I think I've got a headache coming on." She tunes out of Mr Northam's hopes of her feeling better soon, and ignores her mother's pointed look, no doubt she thinks Northam wanted to propose. Cora knows her mother is probably correct but Mr Northam bores her. He's not old like Mr Bowley but he's boring, he never says anything funny or shares his opinions with her, he just agrees in an attempt, no doubt, to make her accept him and agree to be the future Duchess of Gloucester.

The two gentleman take their leave shortly after. At which point she knows her mother is about to round on her. But the arrival of the footman with the announcement of "The Duke of Bertram" stops her mother in her tracks.

"Oh, Lord Bertram, how good of you to spare the time." Cora blushes, need her mother be anymore obvious?

"I wondered if I might have a moment alone with your daughter Mrs Levinson."

"Of course." Cora looks up startled just as her mother leaves the room with a knowing look. Before she can speak the Duke has sat beside her.

"Miss Levinson, you can be at no loss as to what I'm about to ask. Would you, consent to be my wife?" Cora gulps, the Duke makes her curious. He has perfectly green eyes and splendid looks and unlike the other Dukes he doesn't just flatter her in the common ways, he always seems too personal. He's not after her money either, as he's plenty rich. Somehow she thinks she's not seeing the man he really is. He's not being honest with her, and that scares her, if he's not being honest now, he'll never be honest, and she wants honesty. "Miss Levinson, are you listening?"

"Yes, I'm sorry. I was just thinking."

"I understand, and you don't have to give me your answer straight away. But remember I do admire you very, very much." He leans towards her but Cora turns away not wanting to be any nearer him. He takes the hint and just reaches up and strokes her face. She gets on well with Lord Bertram, as well as she does with Mr Crawley. But Lord Bertram's not...not...something.

Her thoughts continue on much the same wavelength for the rest of the day, only really interrupted by her mother's repetitive 'he's a Duke, you'd be a Duchess. Really I don't know why your thinking twice about it.'

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><p>The next morning she awakes and smiles, today she shall see Mr Crawley again. She dresses in the blue gown that's her favourite and heads to breakfast. At eleven o'clock, on the dot there is a knock on the door. Cora steps hurriedly into the hall and her eyes meet not Mr Crawley's but the beautiful red head's, her arm linked through Mr Crawley's. She gulps, tears pricking in her eyes.<p>

"Morning Miss Levinson. You look very fine this morning. I hope you don't mind me bringing my sister, Rosamund, for our walk this morning. I just thought it would save your mother chaperoning us." Cora reaches for the wall, as her mind reels, his sister, Mr Crawley's sister. Not his fiancée, his sister. "Miss Levinson, are you quite alright?"

"Yes, yes, perfectly fine."

The walk is enjoyable and Cora finds herself greatly enjoying Lady Rosamund's company. She's a lot less shy than her brother, and openly laughs at the dresses of passes by, makes jokes and gossips about the ton. Cora laughs with her but is always aware of Mr Crawley's eyes on her and she can't help her thoughts wandering to what he might be thinking of her.

"Plans for your ball are progressing very well Miss Levinson." Mr Crawley's voice brings her back to the present.

"I am sorry I'm inconveniencing you so."

"It's really nothing, my mother loves the preparations. Anything to boss people around." Cora laughs and Lady Rosamund breaks her arm from Cora's as the path narrows, and walks behind the couple, at a distance at which she can't hear them.

"Our mother's have plenty in common, as I think I've said before. Your sister is very pretty, most women would die for such stunning red hair."

"I wouldn't know."

"No, but surely she must be so admired."

"She is I suppose. But as nobody has captured her attention yet I pay little notice."

"You know I didn't realise she was your sister. I presumed she was some Lady of fortune whom you wished to capture with your fortune hunter's net."

"No, Miss Levinson, that's you." Cora feels a blush warm her cheeks.

"Well, you best be careful. I'm quite a fidget and may manage to wriggle free of your net."

"You wouldn't dare."

"No, you're right. I might decide I want to stay once I've been caught."

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><p>That night at dinner her father informs her that the Prince Christian Victor called while she was out and that "he asked my permission for your hand in marriage, I said I'd tell you and you'd send him an answer."<p>

"I will think about it." In truth the Prince is lovely, very charming but she doesn't want to marry him. Mr Crawley and the Duke of Bertram are far more like her, they interest her more.

"Cora, dear, I don't understand what there is to think about, he's a Prince, you'd be a Princess."

"Mama, you said that this afternoon when the Duke proposed."

"Cora, what about Mr Crawley? Has he proposed yet?" Harold stares intently at her.

"No, he hasn't." A blush lingers in her cheeks which her father sees.

"Do you like this gentleman?" Before her father has a chance to question her further, her mother's shrill voice interrupts.

"But, my dear, there's the Duke of Bertram, he's very likeable as is the Prince. The other Dukes all have good prospects too. You'd make a wonderful Duchess."

"Perhaps. But I want a happy marriage with a man who makes me laugh and who I can talk to like a grown up. I want an honest, kind man who respects me."

"The Duke of Bertram respects you. It's not like he needs your money. I know Mr Crawley is very nice, but it's your money he respects. Not you."

"But at least he's honest. Lord Bertram scares me. And I'm sure he's hiding something."

Her father looks up sharply at Cora statement. "Cora, why does he scare you?"

"He's so familiar all the time. It's weird."

"Oh Cora, I didn't bring you all the way to England to be a Countess in waiting. I want you to be grand. Don't you want that?"

"No!" She screams at her mother, her napkin thrown on the table. "I want to be happy. You've already dragged me all the way to England, away from everything I know to find a husband. How I'm here I think I should at least be able to choose where and with whom I'm going t spend the rest of my life. Without your or anyone else's interference." She storms from the room, leaving her irritated mother and her two closest male relations excessively satisfied, Martha had that one coming.

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><p>AN: This chapter contains little Cobert for which I'm sorry but it was necessary to get across a little more of Cora's thoughts on her other suitors. Cobert return in full force in the next chapter.<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Thanks for all the lovely reviews. Hope you enjoy this one, quite a lot more Cobert to enjoy.

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><p>As Cora steps into the ballroom at Grantham house later that week she inwardly gasps, it's just so beautiful. She stands around awkwardly as Lady Grantham makes last minute changes and servants rush past.<p>

When Robert steps into the ballroom just before the start of Miss Levinson's ball the sight before him is so perfect. Not only does the ballroom look amazing but Miss Levinson stands in the doorway of the room greeting the first guests, looking stunning. Her hair is wrapped perfectly onto her head and the blue gown she wears compliments her blue eyes. She looks the most beautiful that Robert has seen her. Tonight he decides, he must propose tonight. His father had been pushing him to do so, he needed to marry. His mother was still not convinced Miss Levinson was the best choice, in fact, she believed she was the worst. His sister had offered more guidance, explaining that after she had met Miss Levinson she was sure she was taken with him, something Robert had found impossible to comprehend.

Cora feels eyes on her back and turns. A blush covers her cheeks as her eyes meet Mr Crawley's. She desperately wants to know if he has any intention of asking for her hand. She had promised her mother she would make a decision by the morning. Mr Bowley, the future Duke of Devonshire had proposed and Mr Northam had made it obvious he intended to do so tonight. The Prince and the Duke of Bertram were naturally still on the list, awaiting answers. The fact she had feelings for Rob-Mr Crawley was now clear to her and she really wanted him to propose. What she felt for him she had been unable to explain until her father had discussed her suitors with her the other night. He'd explained that although Mr Crawley had the least to offer he wouldn't hold it against her if she chose to marry him, as she obviously loved him. He may not love me, she decides, but at least I will be somewhat happy with him, and he's kind and loving to his sister. Maybe over time he could love her too.

She had been so lost in her thoughts she hadn't realised how many guests she had greeted. Only when Mr Crawley's hand slips into hers and he kisses it does she realise the dancing is about to start, her heart races, she's got to open the dancing and she has no partner.

"Miss Levinson, I was wondering if you'd do me the honour of allowing me to open the dancing with you?" He wasn't going to ask her, he assumed her brother or father would do the honours, but since the latter had arrived and hinted that 'as the Crawley's are hosting the ball, shouldn't she open the dancing with you or your father?'

"Yes, I'd be delighted." Cora's heart begins to race for an entirely new reason, she for once doesn't care that everyone's going to be watching her dance, not when she's in Mr Crawley's arms, she feels safe there.

"Robert, I promised Lady Margaret you'd dance the first with her." Violet's shrill voice brings them both back to the present.

"But Mama, a member of the hosting family always opens the ball by dancing with the debutante."

"Yes, but usually the debutante and the gentleman hosting are related."

"Does any of it matter when I _want_ to dance with Miss Levinson?" He watches his mother's face fall as she signals to the orchestra. He walks Miss Levinson to the floor but not before he's heard his father say to his mother: ' She loves him you know.' And her simple reply 'What!? No, of course she doesn't, she's a ghastly American.' Robert doesn't know what to think, there is no way, he thinks that the lovely Miss Levinson has fallen for him.

"I hope you're enjoying your ball Miss Levinson."

"It has hardly started Mr Crawley, but so far it's been quite wonderful, thank you."

"There's nothing to thank me for, my mother did all the work, she even managed to get Mr Bowley and Mr Northam to attend, as well as Lord Bertram, all suitors of yours I've heard." Robert's anger begins to rise at the thought of the last gentleman, he is such a scoundrel. But Miss Levinson's voice brings his thoughts back to slightly pleasanter places.

"Yes, I have noticed them."

"Even my mother couldn't manage the a Prince though."

"How did you know-" Cora panics, hopefully her mother hadn't been talking, the Prince had sworn her to secrecy.

"News travels fast, he called on you yesterday, didn't he?" Robert's temper rises and he doesn't know why. When his sister had mentioned that the Prince was, by all accounts courting Miss Levinson, he had brushed it off, but now that he was holding C-Miss Levinson in his arms, he didn't want to see her in the arms of another. Why, he didn't know, maybe because of what he'd overheard his father saying. If Miss Levinson loved him, surely she'd accept if he proposed, Downton would be safe and he would have a stunning wife. A woman he was sure he could get along with.

"Yes, he did call yesterday, but only to excuse himself from the ball." He'd also called to see if she'd come to a decision about his proposal but she wasn't going to tell Mr Crawley that. Particularly when he looked like he had just been hit in the stomach, she hadn't trodden on his foot, had she?

"Well, at least I can say, when the engagement is announced; that I danced the opening dance of your debut ball with you; the future Princess."

"I never said he proposed." The doubt sweeps into Roberts mind before he can stop it, how can he compete with a Prince? Even if she does love him, her mother still wants her to be as grand as she can be and Miss Levinson did say that it was best to obey one's mother.

"Oh please, he called yesterday, in person, to apologise for not being able to attend your ball. He's a Prince, that's-"

"And even if he had proposed, who said I would have accepted?"

"An offer from a Prince, every girl dreams of being a Princess, you'd have to be a fool to turn him down."

"Well, it's a good job he didn't propose, otherwise I'd be a fool." Cora keeps lying, not because she likes lying but because she wants to entice Ro-Mr Crawley into a proposal. She most certainly couldn't careless if the Prince had proposed or not, but if Rob-Mr Crawley doesn't propose, she knows she will wonder 'what if,' until the day she dies.

"You really wouldn't have accepted?"

"No, you forget, I'm American, having the grandest title isn't what I want. I want to be happy, regardless of what my mother says." This strikes a chord with Robert, happiness is all he really wants, if he had a choice. If he'd had the leisure of falling in love he would have taken it, but he doesn't, his father needs money, happiness, or at the very least the hope of it, is all he can expect.

"So, your list of men is one man shorter." Cora smiles, he's always on about those lists of suitors, 'time to tease him' she can hear her fathers words in her head.

"Yes, one of my lists anyway." She struggles to contain her laugh as the panic rushes over Robe-Mr Crawley's face.

"How may lists do you have?"

"Just two. One with men on that I like or who I know like me. The second list is one of men I like a lot, and may potentially accept if he proposes."

"How many men are on each of your lists?" Robert doesn't notice the twinkle in Cora's eyes or take into account how ridiculously forward she's being, despite her American nature.

"Four on the first and just the one on the second."

"So, there's one lucky man who, if he proposes will probably get a favourable answer, who might this man be?"

"That would be telling." The music ends and Robert leads Cora off the floor. He can't understand why he wants to know, it's never going to be him, he thinks, not with all those Dukes Miss Levinson has to choose from. He decides he still wants to propose though, of all the women who have big enough dowry's to save Downton C-Miss Levinson is the only one he doesn't find dull. It is Miss Levinson or one of the others, and he knows which he'd prefer. "The one thing I can tell you is that his eyes are blue." Cora hopes that's a big enough hint, but when she glances up to look at Mr Crawley his eyes are glazed over, as if in another world. Lady Margaret steps into the couple's path, her brother two steps behind.

"Mr Crawley, Lady Grantham promised me you'd dance the first with me."

"Well, I-" Robert has no time to continue as two things happen at once. The first is that Lady Margaret's brother exclaims to her 'I told you he _chose_ to dance with Miss Levinson.' The second is far more significant. Mr Bowley, the now Duke of Devonshire after his father's death two days previously, appears at Cora's side and asks her to dance, she accepts. Furthermore, he leans into her and says: " There's an important question I asked that I need to know the answer to Miss Levinson." Robert sees none of this though, nor does he hear Cora's negative reply. All he sees are Lord Devonshire's eyes. Blue eyes. Miss Levinson's man, he thinks, as he turns his back and walks to he door, head hammering, heart thumping and stomach somersaulting.

He doesn't notice Cora being abandoned on the dance floor by the Duke, or the desperate looks she casts over her shoulder as she searches for him. His mind just swims with 'he has blue eyes' and the perfect blue eyes of Lord Devonshire which were no doubt the ones she spoke of. They were after all a perfect match for hers.


	6. Chapter 6

Cora wiggles her way through the dancing couples intent on following Robert out the room. She is determined to check he's alright. What had caused him to run from the room so suddenly, surely it couldn't have been the Duke asking her to dance? He must have seen how much she disliked the man. Or did he? She didn't know, surely though he wouldn't expect her to accept some old, wrinkling Duke as her future husband?

"Miss Levinson. Did you just turn down the Duke of Devonshire?" Mr Northam steps into her path.

"Yes Mr Northam, I did, please will you let me pass."

"Would you accept a proposal from me?"

"Mr Northam, I'm very honoured and I will think about it. How about I send a note in the post tomorrow." The gentleman doesn't conceal his disappointment from her.

"No need Miss Levinson. I understand, and I wish you well, I really do." He leaves her and Cora struggles further towards the door. She realises how solely she is relying on Mr Crawley proposing. If he doesn't she may have to marry Lord Bertram and that's something she'd really rather avoid, there was something about that man that she still couldn't make out. Her mother suddenly appears from nowhere.

"Cora, don't chase after Mr Crawley. Lord Bertram has just arrived and if you're not going to accept the Prince's proposal, it's high time you accepted his." Cora sighs, she made it clear to her mother she didn't wish to have the trauma of being a Princess meaning her mother was still plugging that retched Lord Bertram's case.

"Mama, we'll talk about this later. I don't want to cause a scene. Now, please et me pass."

"I think you're making a mistake. Mr Crawley, if he _ever_ proposes, only wants your money. Lord Bertram has taken a liking to _you_."

"He may have done. But I have _no_ liking for him."

"And you think you have a liking for Mr Crawley, or should I say _love_ Mr Crawley. Really Cora, it's just an infatuation, it will pass. No doubt when you realise he's not at all interested in you." Cora's eyes prick with water and she storms past her mother into the corridor outside. She's finally free of the fake smiles and comments of the stuffy ballroom. She takes a deep breath, breathing in the fresh cool air, before heading in the direction of what she believes to be the library.

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><p>Robert stands by the fireplace in the darkened library where only a couple of oil lamps burn, a glass of port in his hand. He swirls the liquid until he believes it's turning as much as his brain. Blue eyes, Devonshire, surely not? But it was staring him in the face, plain to see. He supposes he shouldn't be surprised, it's the title. Damn titles. He knows that's what Miss Levinson wants. Why he cares, God only knows. He thinks it's because he's almost sure she loves him and if she does, surely she is expecting his proposal? Surely she wants him to make her happy? But could he really make a woman happy that has such deep feelings for him whan he only likes her? He's never been good with women, so having one fall for him is not only unexpected but quite an achievement. He doesn't know the first thing about being a husband though, besides the obvious and he's always been told that part of marriage is for him to enjoy, even if his father states that it's just as much about his future wife: 'It's better if she enjoys it too.' But to marry a woman who loves him but he has no feelings to return, surely that would be a disaster? Even if she is beautiful, funny, kind and has the money he so desperately needs to save his family. His thoughts are interrupted by none other than the woman occupying them. The last person he wants to see.<p>

"Mr Crawley, is something the matter? You left rather suddenly."

"I'm surprised you noticed. I thought you'd be too busy with the Duke of Devonshire and his _blue_ eyes and _important_ question." Cora gasps. It was the blue eyes, he thought she had accepted the dreadful Duke.

"Mr Crawley, I-"

"No, really, there's not need to explain-"

"He's not the man on my second list."

"Who is then?" Robert can't help prying into her affairs. He's desperate to know what she's feeling, he doesn't want to get on one knee and present himself as a fool if he hasn't got a chance. Or does he?

"Does it matter?" The truth is Robert realises, it doesn't. He'd decided he was going to propose tonight. So here goes nothing. He sits down next to her.

"No, I don't suppose it does. You know what I'm going to ask." Cora groans inwardly. Every man who's proposed to her has started with that line. What don't men understand? Women want the full thing, the kneeling down and the proper words.

"Really, I don't think I do." Robert sighs, he should have guessed he wasn't going to be able to propose by halves. He reluctantly slides off the settee onto the floor before her and takes her small, slender hands in his own.

"Miss Cora Levinson, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?" Cora feels tears prick in her eyes. She briefly contemplates making him wait and sending a note in the morning with her answer but that idea leaves as quickly as it came. How long had she waited for those words? Long enough.

"Yes, yes, of course." Robert smiles and kisses her hands before sitting on the settee beside her again. The smile fades from his face when he sees the tears in her eyes; happy tears, they have to be. He doesn't wish to ruin her happy moment, but it's only fair that she knows he doesn't love her, isn't it?

"Miss Levinson. There's something you should know. I know you have, I mean I think, that you love me and I don't-"

"Mr Crawley-"

"You can call me Robert now, please."

"Robert, I know you don't feel the same about me. But I do believe you like me. If we can manage to be friends for the rest of our life's together, I will be happy. I know better than any other that you can not change what's in your heart, and I won't try and make you."

"I will strive to make you happy Miss Levinson."

"Cora, please."

"As you wish. I do want to make you happy. I promise. I may not love you but when I first met you I may have only seen you as a rich American who could save my family. But every day I've been with you I've liked you more and more. And I promise, I will dedicate the rest of my life to making you happy."

"That's quite a speech."

"I mean it, every word of it. May I try something, at the risk of embarrassing myself?"

"Is it another one of your schemes to make me sure I've chosen correctly? Because you should know I don't need by decision made for me. It's made and I'm happy."

"I wouldn't call it a scheme Miss-Cora. I'm just curious." Cora breath catches as he leans towards her, her heart races. Its pounding so hard she's sure it echoes around the room. She closes her eyes in anticipation of his kiss when the door flies open; Lady Grantham and her mother stand before them.

"Robert, there you are. Your father and I were worried. And Miss Levinson, people are asking for you, namely Lord Bertram, which is unsurprising seeing as this is _your_ ball. The debutante show never leave the ballroom you know." Cora walks towards the door where her mother catches her arm.

"Lord Bertram wanted your answer Cora, so I said you'd most likely accept. He's going to call around in the morning with the ring." Cora's eyes widen in shock but before she can announce her engagement Robert steps forward.

"Mrs Levinson, your daughter has just accepted my offer of marriage. _I_ will be calling in the morning with a ring." Cora sees a look in her mother's eyes that she recognises all too well; anger. But before Martha has a chance to explode Violet does.

"Robert, you must be mad. I assumed I was mistaken when I walked in and it looked as though you were about to kiss this ghastly American girl. But obviously I was not."

"No, you were not. We are going to marry." The blood drains from Violet's face and she reaches for the wall.

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><p>AN: Thank you for all the reviews and support! it's wonderful having so many people want to know when I'm going to update, it really makes my day. This is the penultimate chapter, so one more later in the week and then an epilogue at the weekend if my plan goes to plan! I hope you all liked this chapter, it was one of the harder ones to write, so I'd love to know if you liked it.<p> 


	7. Chapter 7

AN:This is the last full chapter with the exception of an epilogue. The sequel will launch some time next week and follows the story from four months after their wedding (Leaving me a little scope to do the wedding and the honeymoon in greater detail sometime in the future). Credit where it's due, I have stolen one of Julian Fellowes' lines for Biolet and used it at the very end of this chapter, I take no credit for that work. I really hope you like this and I can't thank you all enough for your continued reading and reviewing.

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><p>The following morning Robert storms from the house, ring in his pocket with a call of "There's nothing you can do Mama, the decision has been made." He can't stand being in the house any longer but it was too early to call on Mis-Cora. Instead he heads to Kensington gardens and retraces the steps he traced across the ground with Cora on his arm a few days previously.<p>

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><p>If Cora had been asked how she would have wanted to spend the morning after she became engaged it would not be the series of events that she was experiencing. Her father and brother had been acceptive of her decision to marry Robert and understood the reasons for reaching the conclusion she had. He mother however, was beyond livid. She'd left Cora to sleep the previous night with the eerie parting message of "We shall sort this in the morning." So here she sat, her mother red in the face a few feet in front of her, shouting.<p>

"Cora, I don't understand. Love over security and a grand title. What are you thinking? It's not like Mr Crawley even loves you."

"Doesn't love eventually result in security?"

"Not necessarily."

"Honestly Mama, you can argue all you like. My decision has been made. I don't want to marry Lord Bertram and spend the rest of my life thinking 'what if I'd married Mr Crawley?"

"Won't that happen in a years time when your supposed 'love' dies and you sit around thinking 'what if I'd married Lord Bertram?'"

"Mama, I don't even like Lord Bertram so I sincerely doubt he can make me happy. Love or no love I'm marrying Mr Crawley." Cora watches as her mother turns to the door, finally defeated. When she turns back to her daughter she speaks quietly.

"Very well, but don't turn to me when you realise I'm right."

"Levinson's don't complain Mama, we persevere. Isn't that what's you've always said?"

"Yes, it is."

"Robert likes me, even if he doesn't love me. I'll be content with friendship, I promise."

"Very well, it is your life. There is one thing I will ask, how much do you like this Mr Crawley?" Her mother comes and sits beside her.

"I've told you Mama, as has Papa, I love him."

"Why? What's special about him?" Cora pauses in an attempt to form words in her head.

"I like him because he's different...funny...honest...kind...doesn't care that I dislike dancing...I actually talk to him honestly, I tell him what I think and he's doesn't sneer at me of he disagrees. He asks for my views on some things and I-I don't know." Tears start to fall down her cheeks and she doesn't know why, all the stress and all the yelling coming to an end? Or maybe it's because her mother pulls her into a hug. Her mother hasn't hugged her since she was a tiny little girl.

"It's alright Cora. You really do like him and I'm convinced you can make him love you just as you do him. After all, who wouldn't fall for your beauty and humour?"

* * *

><p>Robert eventually decides that its no longer too early to call on Cora and strides up the steps to her house, only for the door to be opened before he knocks and a red-faced Lord Bertram exits. The young Duke scowls at him.<p>

"I suppose it was you that told Mr Levinson of my reputation with women. You realise I'll never marry. No English woman wants me. I also expect it was you that told Miss Levinson I only wanted to marry her to rebel against my insufferable parents. Good luck to you Mr Crawley. I imagine her beauty will become less appealing after a time. At which point you better watch out. She deserves to be ruined."

"You'll never lay hands on her." Robert steps into the house and brushes Lord Bertram's threats aside. He won't touch Cora, nobody will. He'd do anything to protect the woman who'd given him her heart.

He gets shown into the drawing room, Cora is sat in the window seat riding a book. She moves to get up, her heart more at ease now he's finally arrived.

"Don't get up. I didn't mean to interrupt your solitary reading."

"It's alright. I've read the book a thousand times. I just like it."

"Pride and Prejudice again?"

"Yes, how did you know?"

"I remember you mentioned it once. You said that you liked Miss Elizabeth's refusal to Mr Darcy's first proposal." Cora smiles and moves to the settee, gesturing for him to sit down, he's been listening to her conversation that must mean she means just a little bit to him. "At least my proposal was more agreeable to you. You don't know how grateful I am."

"I could say you were the first man in the world whom I wished to marry!" They laugh. "We're even now. I was in your debt for the ball and now I dan repay you."

"Yes, quite literally." The room is filled with their joint laughter again, but this time it's not cut short. "I'm not just grateful for your money though. I never thought such a wonderful woman would ever want to marry me." Robert takes Cora's hands coaxing her to look up and a blush warms her cheeks and she looks away.

"Nobody's ever called me wonderful before."

"Well, you are. And as I said yesterday. I want to make you happy."

"Has your mother recovered from the news?"

"Not quite. She'll come around eventually. But, you should know Cora that it may take a while and she'll probably try and make you suffer in the mean time."

"I expected that."

"How about your parents?"

"My father is fine with the whole situation, he likes you, you know. He was very impressed when you asked him for my hand yesterday, having already secured it. He said 'what a sensible man, woo the lady first and the father can't say no'" Robert laughs. "My mother's come around now as well."

"How dI'd you manage that? I thought she wanted a Duke for you."

"I persuaded her you'd make me happier. I persuaded her that my feelings for you were true and would last."

"Yet more pressure for me."

"It's not, if you think about it it's less. You don't have to woo me whan I'm your wife, you've already done it. And, I'll stand by you whatever, you don't have to worry about me having a lover and all that."

"Your logic is quite perfect Cora. But that doesn't mean I feel the pressure any less. Speaking of pressure I have a ring for you. If you don't like it we can take a trip out this afternoon and choose another." He fumbles in his pocket eventually retrieving the box which he opens to reveals the ring. Cora gasps. The perfect cluster of tiny diamonds in an oval shape that lays in the velvet is beautiful, as is the slightly larger diamond in the centre.

"It's beautiful." Robert slides it onto her waiting finger, relieved.

"I wasn't sure what you wanted. But I thought, classy, small and different."

"Yes, quite, I wouldn't want a great diamond." She finishes twisting the ring around her finger trying to see it better in the light. When she looks up Robert's eyes are more smouldering than she's ever seen them, and a lot closer. He reaches forward and strokes her face.

"May I?" she knows what he means without him elaborating, she's finally going to get to feel his lips on hers after being so rudely interrupted the night before.

"Of course." Her voice comes out in breathy gasps and Robert smiles inwardly, it's always a good start when a woman wants to be kissed.

Robert kisses her once gently and Cora's heart soars, never did she imagine being kissed would feel so good. When he pulls away she lifts her hands to the lapels on his jacket instinctively and tilts her head higher, desperate to feel the sensation again. Robert is at first taken aback by her forwardness but then realises their whole marriage will be a lot easier if she welcomes his advances. He rests his hands lightly on her tightly corseted waist and kisses her with a little more pressure. Cora smiles to herself as Robert moves to kiss her again, the added pressure at first surprises her, but she soon enjoys it. She parts her lips against the pressure and feels his tongue dart over her lips, she gasps in delight. Robert pulls away, worried he's scared her.

"Sorry, was that too much?"

"No, I only gasped in a mixture of surprise and joy." He brings his lips to hers again as she lifts her face once more to his, her hands now resting on his collar, only for her to immediately part her lips to him. When he pulls away a second later he leaves them both wanting more. He also parts his lips from hers in satisfaction, it seems no part of their union is likely to be conventional. Cora is not going to do as she is told, rather she is going to do as she feels. A better bargain for a happy marriage he hopes.

Cora is left feeling breathless. But the thought that dominates her mind is the hope that perhaps her Mama is right, perhaps she can make him love her. She highly doubts he'd kiss a woman he had no feelings for like that.

It seems hope rains in the thoughts of both. But does hope plus hope equal happiness? Or is it just a tease?


	8. Epilogue

In the March of the following year Cora walked on her father's arm down the aisle, in the finest of dresses, to the waiting Robert. Her mind was not entirely at rest. She dreaded her parents departure in a few days time, leaving her mother-in-law free-reign to insult her. She was also somewhat nervous about her wedding night. Not only had Robert been very distant since she'd come to live at Downton but her mother's supposed assurances hadn't helped. But, she conceded, she was marrying the man she loved, what more could she want? His love, his loyalty against his mother, her subconscious probes but she doesn't listen, instead she lets the wonderful smile enlightening Robert's face fill her conscious thoughts.

"Will I do?" She hears herself ask her groom.

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever beheld, of course you'll do."

"But will I make a good enough Countess? I'm sure your mother would love you to jilt me."

"It's not my mother's life, it's mine. And I want you in my life Cora."

In years to come Robert would look back on his wedding day and sigh with regret. Regret for not making the wedding night more special for Cora and regret for not realising that her parents departure would leave her isolated and easy prey for his mother. At the time he'd just marvelled in how stunning she looked and the surprise that such a beautiful woman would want to marry him.

It was even more years before Robert ever looked back on the day with the same smile that had sparkled that day. The time did come however, when his eldest granddaughter, Sybbie at about ten years old and now aware of the reasons for her grandparents marriage, asked him: "When was the first time you said something to Grandma that wasn't just to flatter her? When was the first time you really meant what you said?" His answer had been almost immediate, "at our wedding." He realised at that moment that he had loved Cora then. When he'd said he'd wanted her in his life he'd meant it. That had come from his heart.

Unfortunately, love is unpredictable and almost self-destructive, his heart would make their life difficult for them before it made it easy.

Love however, conquers all. Eventually.

* * *

><p>AN: Thank you all for staying with me through this story, it means a great deal. This epilogue is short, mainly to leave me wiggle room in the future if I ever decide to write a story for their wedding and honeymoon, which is likely. The sequel will be out later this week, so I hope you will read that. Each chapter depicts a moment from every month from four months after their wedding to the day Robert declares his love. Thank you all again for your reviews, favourites, and follows for this story, they total the most ive had for any of my stories in all categories.<p> 


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